I can't sleep. I haven't slept in days. I'm saying insomnia. Does that make me a hypochondriac? Is this head cold really a cold? Or is it some plague that is bound to kill me. Drop me, dead as a corpse like back in the early 1900's, when there weren't many antibiotics to go around, and crazy illnesses, like the Spanish Influenza or something? It's just me being over dramatic. Story of my life, right?
Back to the not sleeping thing. Every time I lay down to rest my eyes, one of my crazy neighbors is making an extreme racket, making it impossible to even concentrate on not concentrating on anything, to clear my mind and drift off into something other describe, or ridiculously call dreamland. I've taken it into account that I'm a day sleeper. That's why, from now on, on my nights off, I will blast my music, while singing at the top of my lungs, watch movies with the volume on 50+, have extremely loud and obnoxiously personal telephone conversations right next to the paper thin wall in the bedroom, and have extremely wild, animal noise sex. Just for revenge. I believe they do all of these things just to rub it in my face...that I'm here alone. They all know it. They all give me that "poor girl" look every time I pass them while walking to my car, or to take the trash out.
A neighbor stopped me the other day on my way out to the dumpster. "Girls don't take out trash." Thanks. Are you saying because I have short hair I should just automatically change my name to Shane or Shawn and start taking hormone supplements, only to one day have my necessary sex change, so my brothers and sisters can start calling me their bro-ster? I just laughed. My head was filled with ass-hole comments, none of them appropriate to really say to a neighbor, whom I have only said a quick hello to in passing. I bet he doesn't even take out his own trash, leaves it for his woman to handle, or if he does, I bet she has to bag it and put it by the door so he'll even remember. In response to my tense laughter he replies "Well, maybe you need to find you one of those then." Then gave me the "poor girl" look again. I bet I'm the talk of the building. The weird, tattooed, stays up all night - so she can sleep all day, quiet as a mouse, takes the only available open parking spot because her parking stall is a thousand miles from her front door, alone, crazy cat lady who takes out her own trash...heaven forbid. Not that I have cats or anything, but I'm sure they think I do.
My neighbors directly across from my front door own 2 cats that look EXACTLY alike. Their living room window faces my door, so whenever I leave my apartment, for any reason, there they area, the 2 over confident felines. Perched and waiting to pounce, which, I'm sure they would do, except there's a few panes of glass between them and I, other wise I'd be yesterdays tuna to them. They sit there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, almost like statues. If their eyes didn't follow me and I walked down the side walk, I'd believe them to be actual statues. I think they're in on the scam, and also plotting my demise. Their big beady eyes, sharp claws, scratchy tongues, and alter egos. One of these days I'm going to wind up missing. When I do...point fingers in that direction. Ask questions later. Euthanasia. Hey, it happens. Don't be scared to talk about it. Circle of life bullshit.
Above me, the "woman" of the household, which I have never seen - only heard, prefers to do everything in heels. Vacuuming, yoga, dishes, pick her noise, cleaning the toilet, P90-X, laundry....you name it. No need to call her and ask you what she's doing, just come hang out with me for 5 minutes, I'm sure we can figure it out, or at least make up some good stories! Neighbor across the kitchen wall, let's just say he's the meanest gay man I've even met. Nuff said...with his white BMW. He needs to go back to drivers education and re-learn how to park...I'm just saying. The man on the other side of the bedroom wall...I have only seen once. I'm not sure what he does, or where he goes, but he's gone A LOT! I say he's a secret agent, and a contracted killer. He seems the type. Good man by day, killing off the scum bags of society by night. Knows how to cut you a thousand ways before you even know you've bled to death. Super secretive agent man. He probably does that whole "push a button on the toaster" thing in the the morning while drinking his coffee, and ten different assault weapons pop out. He chooses the paper clip to suffocate you with, because it's his specialty and he's just THAT good. I saw him look at me like he was picturing all the ways he could off me. I'm not crazy.
Ok, maybe a little crazy...next thing you know I'm going to be talking about the one time that I was abducted by aliens and got anal probed. And the true story about the cold war, the real Bermuda Triangle, what actually does happen at Area 51 and my outlook on why tin foil hats are the only way to keep the government out of our private thoughts....
No comments:
Post a Comment